


Dead Head Walking

by pinstripedJackalope



Series: TGGTVAV Challenge Fics [4]
Category: The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Walking Dead Fusion, Alternate Universe - Warm Bodies Fusion, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Blood and Gore, But he comes back!, Character Death, Dubious Science, HIV/AIDS, Happy Ending, Inspired by The Walking Dead, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Seizures, Sick Percy Newton, Suicidal Thoughts, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombie Lore, Zombies, fungal zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22958593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinstripedJackalope/pseuds/pinstripedJackalope
Summary: It's the end of the world, and Henry 'Monty' Montague has one goal: to get his zombie boyfriend to his sister, Felicity, the only person on the face of the planet who has a chance of helping him save Percy's life.Aka the zombie fic I went way too hard on.  Enjoy!
Relationships: Henry "Monty" Montague/Percy Newton
Series: TGGTVAV Challenge Fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638925
Comments: 15
Kudos: 26
Collections: TGGTVAV AU Challenge Fics





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [em_gray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/em_gray/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Rose Petals](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22892530) by [em_gray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/em_gray/pseuds/em_gray). 



> Took the ‘transformation’ from Em-gray’s fic Rose Petals to make this Walking Dead/Warm Bodies Franken-AU.

Photo credit [here](https://a-ghost-named-k.tumblr.com/post/625931254523674624/moodboard-for-dead-head-walking-photo-credit).

***

Present Day

So, a few things I need to get out of the way before you ask just what the hell I’m doing. One—My name is Henry ‘Monty’ Montague. My best friend and boyfriend’s name is Percy Newton. We’ve been traveling together for eleven months, trying to reach my sister, Felicity, in the Edinburgh Safe Zone. 

So far so good? Great. Now for the tricky part. 

I’m human. Completely and totally normal. Your average homo sapien. Percy, on the other hand, is what we call a Dead Head—a zombie. Yes, the kind that eats raw flesh. No, he was not a zombie when we started our journey. I’ve been feeding him rabbits ever since he turned because for some godforsaken reason, the end of the world as we know it has created some sort of rabbit heaven-on-earth. They’re everywhere. No, this is not important, I just thought I’d share. Save the rest of your questions for later, please.

Where was I? Oh, right. Zombie Percy. Zombie Percy versus the fence, take fourteen. Here we go.

I lower the rabbit in my hands toward the ground, or, more specifically, toward the hole I’ve cut through the containment fence of the Safe Zone, which is near the ground. “Here, zombie zombie,” I call, wriggling it enticingly.

This, if you’re wondering, is where you ask me just what the hell I’m doing. And I respond—it makes sense in context. There aren’t many ways to get a zombie to the other side of a chain link fence. It’s either under, through, or over, and zombies can’t climb—no dexterity in the fingers—so under or through were my best bets. Under, unfortunately, would have required me to dig a Percy-sized tunnel, which I’m not about to do, so through it is. One hole in the fence later—much easier than digging, thank you very much—and I am now trying to entice Zombie Percy through with the temptation of treats. Hence the rabbit.

See, I _told_ you it made sense.

“C’mere! C’mere, big guy!” I say. Percy huffs through the improvised muzzle over his face—the result of one too many nips at me instead of the rabbits—as if to say that this isn’t going to work. Which, if you’re wondering, I know. I am well aware that this isn’t going to work. If it hasn’t worked the previous thirteen times, then the chances of it working now, the fourteenth time, are slim to none. The problem is that I’m out of ideas. Just completely wiped clean. It’s been a long day, and—understandably, I think—I’ve reached the limit of my measly little human brain. This is my last resort. Aside from knocking Percy over and dragging him through, that is.

One last try. Just… _one last try_. “Come on, Percy, you can do it!” I say, wriggling the rabbit again. “Bend your knees, Perce!”

For a moment, it looks like Percy is contemplating the instructions. He blinks slowly, head tilting to the side. His blank white eyes stare. I hold my breath, waiting to see if he’ll manage to do this time what he’s failed at thirteen times so far… and just bend… his goddamn… _knees_ …

…But no, he does not. Instead he bends at the waist, reaching for the rabbit. 

I toss it to him with a grunt, running both hands down my face. I am so _tired_ and we are so _close_ I just—I want to _scream_.

But I can’t. I can’t do that. I adjust the duct-tape jacket and the fingerless gloves I have on for protection, take a deep breath, and grit my teeth.

“Alright, big guy,” I say, as Percy tears the rabbit apart with his fingernails. I adjust the violin on my back to scoot back over to the other side of the fence. Once there, I pull down the muzzle so he doesn’t smear rabbit gore all over his face. Not that he’s a particularly neat eater in general, but it usually helps if he has access to his mouth. I wait until he’s nearly finished the rabbit before I wipe his face off a bit—avoiding the teeth that snap at my fingers—and pull the muzzle back into place.

I then waste no time giving him a good, hard shove.

He and the backpack he’s wearing hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. I wince, guilty. I hate manhandling Percy. But it must be done—if we’re to get to my sister we need to get to the other side of this fence, and they’re not about to let my darling Percy in through the front gate. 

I feel the guilt, tag it for later, set it aside, and then go about grabbing Percy by the ankles, dragging him through the hole in the fence.

***

It wasn’t always like this. I know, I know, way to state the obvious, Monty. But I feel like I have to. You just… you don’t understand the scope of this story. Not yet.

Percy and I have been friends since we were babies. I was the first child born to Henri the Senior, an event that happened May of 20XX. Three months later, Percy was to be born, halfway around the world. His mother died in childbirth, and his father was to die soon after, though I don’t know why or how. It seems like something I should know, in hindsight, but I can’t ask Zombie Percy for the answer so it’ll have to wait.

In any case, by Christmas Eve Baby Percy had been delivered to his next living kin—his aunt and uncle, who lived, incredibly enough, just next door to the Montague Manor House. On Christmas day mass, we were both trussed up in holiday onesies and placed side by side in the baby play pen in the hopes that we’d entertain each other for long enough that the adults could eat their crackers and drink their wine or whatever it is that good Christian men and women do on Christmas day. 

It was the start of something beautiful. Years of friendship began in that play pen that day. Eighteen years of friendship, in fact. From Christmas day 20XX to my eighteenth birthday this year we lived like kings, running amok as we pleased with everything we could ever hope to ask for, answering to no one but each other at the end of the day.

Until my eighteenth birthday. That, if you’re wondering, is when the world as we knew it came to an end.

***

Eleven Months Ago

“Keep _up_ , Monty.”

“I would, if you’d just let—me— _breathe_ —for a second!”

Percy came to a short stop at the crest of the hill, waiting impatiently for my valiant attempts to climb the last few feet. After a few misses, I managed to wedge my sneakers in the rock and pull myself up, successfully summiting the veritable mountain of dirt. I then promptly sank into a crouch, wheezing. Walking from London to Edinburgh was all well and good when you were planning it out, but the actual deed required a lot more cardio than my heart was made to handle. I had never been so out of breath in my life. Except, of course, during high school PE classes.

“Come on,” Percy said, after a stretch of time that could barely constitute a proper break. “We need to get to the town by nightfall.”

“I _know_ ,” I said, raising a hand. “You’ve only told me this twelve times today.”

Percy rolled his eyes, clapping his palm to mine. He hauled me to my feet with one tug of his long arms, after which I nearly overbalanced and went head over heels down the other side of the hill. Percy, instead of asking if I was alright or showing any sign of caring about my current condition, began hiking downward without another word.

I grunted, following along, my dead-tired eyes locked on the violin that was strapped to his backpack. I was, in case anyone was curious, very sore. Also off balance. It had been two days since the London Safe Zone shut down for good and I was, suffice to say, _unaccustomed_ to the weight of the thirty pound backpack I’d been saddled with, let alone to hiking around for ten hours a day with said backpack.

The good news—we reached the town by nightfall. The bad news—I could swear my blisters were getting blisters. Percy, ever immune to the fatigues of man, kept going even after we began to pass buildings suitable for temporary habitation, forcing me to limp along behind him as he went.

“How far are you intending to go?” I asked finally, wincing.

Percy glanced back. “Just to the pharmacy. The map said it was a few blocks down. Can you make it that far?”

I wanted to say no. I wanted to collapse where I was standing. But when Percy asked a question and his eyes got that hopeful shine to them I couldn’t just break his heart. I blew air out between my lips, forcing my sweaty bangs to stand up straight for a moment. “Yeah, fine, but we stay there for the night,” I said. And then, on the tail of that, “Why the pharmacy, though?”

Percy was silent for a long moment. His silence would normally mean that he was listening for Dead Heads, but the lift of his shoulders told me he was actually thinking, and hard, about how to answer my question.

Finally, he sighed, slowing down to match my pace instead of walking ahead of me for the first time today. “I have to… tell you something,” he said.

“Christ, don’t sound so put out by the thought of talking to me. I’m a great conversationalist,” I said, partly because he was making me nervous and partly because we’d been walking in silence all day and _now_ , on the edge of nightfall, when the zombies—who, need I remind everyone, were attracted to sound—liked to come out… _now_ he wanted to talk?

He bit his lip, looking over at me. “This is serious,” he said. “I need you to… not be you for a second.”

Which, okay, _rude_. I’m very good with serious conversations. I _own_ at serious conversations. I opened my mouth to say exactly that, only to find his hand—fingerless glove and all—already over my lips.

“I’m not joking around,” he said. 

I huffed. Fine, if that was how he wanted to do this. I’d give him exactly what he wanted. To the letter, in fact—we’d see how much he liked me when I said nothing at all!

He tentatively withdrew his hand, allowing me to mime zipping my lips shut and throwing out the key. “Right,” he said. He fiddled with the strap of his backpack for a moment. “This is going to come as something of a surprise to you, but I… I’m sick. I’ve been sick since I was a baby. My mother had HIV and she passed it on to me when I was born. I take medication to keep the virus under control, but I’m running out. I won’t… I just… it might get bad. If I don’t find more meds, I mean. It might… it might kill me. So… there you go.”

I didn’t realize I was gaping until Percy’s fingers gently pressed against my chin, shutting my mouth.

“So… that’s that,” he said, turning away from me.

That certainly was _not_ that. My head was swirling, a thousand questions starting to beat against the back of my throat. I knew if I opened my mouth one or more would get out so I kept it clamped shut, hoping that would deter them. If I swallowed them down maybe I would digest them and we would no longer have to forage in the houses we passed for canned food.

The good news was that focusing so hard on staying silent made me forget just a little how much my body actually hurt. We walked the final blocks to the pharmacy and I didn’t need to stop once. Then we were there and Percy was pulling a slip of paper from his pocket, handing it to me.

“I’m looking for anything that says antiretroviral. Or anything off that list,” he said, already heading toward the back to jump the counter into the prescription area. It had clearly been raided already, bottles knocked off the shelves and onto the floor, but Percy paid no mind. He just pulled out his flashlight and set to work searching.

I, meanwhile, was staring at the list. The questions were getting so aggressive inside me that I couldn’t help it when one or three slipped out. “Abacavir? Lamivudine, zido…uh… zidovudine…? What even are these?”

“They’re HIV meds.” 

“Right,” I said, finally putting the pieces together. Call me slow but sometimes it takes me a while to work things out. Percy’s back was to me, but I could see how his shoulders had tensed. He was so, so uncomfortable and I was clearly not helping.

In for a penny in for a pound, though. I couldn’t stay quiet forever. And call me stupid, call me reckless, but I had something that might just take his mind off of the whole… sickness… thing.

“You know, if we’re confessing things, I have something you should know as well,” I said. I licked my lips, looking away from him.

“What is it?” he asked, and I didn’t think I was imagining the dread in his voice. He didn’t turn to me and I didn’t turn to him. We continued looking for the medications side by side.

“Nothing bad. Nothing, uh… like yours,” I said, and laughed a nervous laugh. “I just… like you a lot.”

“We’re best friends,” Percy said, still with that undercurrent of dread, and I could swear he was being thick on purpose.

“Not like that, numbskull,” I said, and now the laughter sounded more like I was choking. “I mean, like… I _like_ you, Percy.”

“Oh?”

He sounded guarded, which I guessed I’d earned. I was notorious for sleeping around, finding warm bodies to fill my bed. I wasn’t the kind of person who stayed the morning after.

Percy, though… Percy was different. All the others were paltry substitutes for Percy. I’d always loved Percy. And there was something about this place, this pharmacy at the edge of civilization, that made me realize that I didn’t have the luxury of keeping that to myself anymore.

So I told him so. I told him about realizing for the very first time that he was actually handsome, how it hit me like a train all at once. How I’d watched him for years, paralyzed, waiting to see any indication if he liked boys, if he could like… me. How sometimes when I was alone with my hand I pretended that he was there, with his soft, sweet voice. How guilty I felt afterward, unsure if he could ever feel that way about me. And then I waited for his response, waited until…

“…You mean it. You really… really mean it.”

“I do,” I said. I was still facing away, the beam of my own flashlight quivering over a shelf that I wasn’t really seeing. My heart was beating so hard, so fast in my chest that I thought it might explode if I had to endure another moment of silence.

And then… and then he laughed, and turned me around, and I was suddenly against his chest.

“I like you, too,” he said, holding me tight, and that was that. 

At least… I could pretend it was. And that, friends, was the beginning of my downfall.

***


	2. Part II

***

Present Day

I wouldn’t call myself a squatter, but I’ve done a fair amount of squatting, sometimes literally, since the end of the world. Right now that means holing up in a garden shed on the outskirts of the safe zone, Percy beside me doing the zombie equivalent of sleep. We can only travel at night to stay out of sight of any watching eyes, and besides, Percy is more active at night. There’s something about warmth, or maybe light, that puts him in a kind of… dormant state. I’m no doctor, and I’m sure Felicity could describe it better, but that’s what I know. 

Seeing Percy’s eyelids drooping and his head nodding makes me want to lie down and go comatose for at least a week. Unfortunately for me, I need to stay awake a little longer, in order to hear the daily relay.

It starts the way it usually does. Updates on the Edinburgh Contaminant Lab’s progress with their samples, the spread of the virus, important losses, etc. Apparently the city’s only master weaver was lost during an altercation yesterday, which is a pretty big blow. Craftsmen have become incredibly vital to maintaining any kind of civilized civilization since the end.

After a moment of silence to honor the dead, the relay continues with a series of ads, people offering services or requesting supplies. If you have five rabbit pelts you can trade the local tanner for a fur coat, that sort of thing. There’s a woman offering dental exams—I run my tongue over my teeth and consider that. I wasn’t the best at brushing in my past life, but fuck if I haven’t learned my lesson about tooth-care this past year. It is actual hell trying to find a decent dentist these days.

I’m brought back to the present by the radio, which has started on personal messages now. This is the part of the relay that I need to pay attention to, so I give myself a good shake and force my tired ears to focus, damnit.

“ _…To: D. And H., Barcelona. From: M. R., Edinburgh. Quote ‘keep lazarus safe. I will be fine’ unquote… …To: Lily D., Edinburgh. From: Shawn, Southampton. Quote ‘R in containment, will be late’ unquote… …To: T. J., Glasgow. From: A. J., Edinburgh. Quote ‘fuck you, you fucking fuck’ unquote…_ ”

I snort. Family drama. The personal part of the relay is better than a gossip mag, I swear to god. I’ve been following the J family upset since it began six months ago. See, A and T are brothers, and they were both into the same woman, who, you guessed it, got infected and died her first death. Now, here’s the fun part—the first brother, A, wanted to keep her alive like I’m doing with Percy. T, on the other hand, wanted to put her out of her misery. Thing is, though, T didn’t tell A that. He instead said he’d keep her safe while A searched for their younger sister. So A hears over the relay one day that there’s a funeral service for this girl and he _freaks out_ , tries to send a five-paragraph-essay of a relay message to T, and is basically the reason that the personals now have what we call the Twitter Limit—140 characters or less.

Shit’s wild, is all I’m saying.

I continue listening, biting at the skin around my thumbnail the whole time. I’m beginning to think that Feli hasn’t sent anything for me when I hear my name.

“ _…To: Monty, Carlisle. From: F. M., Edinburgh. Quote ‘Meet Scip outside southern gate. Do not bring Percy inside. Don’t be stupid’ unquote…_ ”

Whoops. Too late for that one. I lean back, pressing my thumbs against my closed eyes. I can’t really retrace my steps—they’re bound to have found the hole in the fence during their nightly perimeter check, and they’ll have extra beef out keeping watch for a while yet. I can’t risk anyone seeing Percy. He’s a Dead Head, a Biter—they’ll double-tap him on sight. Our only option is to continue further into the safe zone, traveling at night and keeping out of sight.

I sigh. The relay is now listing off the names of the daily dead, both zombified and double-tapped. I don’t need to listen to this so I turn the radio off to conserve battery power. Don’t be stupid, she says… god, if only I could actually heed that advice. If only I wasn’t already knee-deep in this shit. If only I could… just… have Percy back. 

Another sigh, and this time I start pulling out the oven mitts I swiped from a house some time back. I did the best I could cleaning Percy up after his feeding—I always do—but his fingernails are still disgusting and a scratch from them would probably give me every disease known to man. I have to be careful—if I catch the fever it’s over for us.

With this in mind, I take Percy’s hands and carefully pull on the mitts, tying them on with some old lengths of rope that I tighten around his wrists. I still have my duct-tape armor on, but some extra protection never goes amiss. I don’t leave the mitts on while we travel because they distract Percy from walking (he’s only got about two working brain cells, give him some slack) but for now, this is good. Mitts and muzzle for Percy, a motorcycle helmet for me to protect my face, the duct-tape jacket/pants combo to protect everything else, and… yeah, that just about does it.

Trussed up like a storm trooper, I let my helmeted head fall onto Percy’s cold shoulder. I close my eyes. I sleep.

***

Ten Months Ago

We didn’t find any antiretrovirals in that first town outside of the London Safe Zone. What we found instead were surgical masks and those little squeeze bottles of hand sanitizer, a box of each. Percy didn’t remember much about his illness and the stages of it, just that without the meds his immune system would soon become compromised. He had to take every precaution he could to not get sick. We would have to make do with that until we found what we needed. 

Which, as the days dragged on, seemed to become more and more of a pipe dream. The search was still on, of course—we stopped at every pharmacy we could find, looking for ART meds. It just so happened that the end of the world had caused a great many people to come searching for exactly what we were searching for, leaving us with few options and fewer supplies. 

It wasn’t just the medicine—food was also scarce, though the rabbits were beginning to boom. As Percy counted out his meds and tried to figure out how to ration them, I set about learning how to set snares from a boy scout survival guide I’d shoved into my backpack on the way out of the house for the last time. 

It did not go well. The rabbits were smarter than I gave them credit for. Either that or I was dumber than I thought I was. Life was frustrating all around.

“No luck?” Percy asked from behind his surgical mask as I trudged back into the gas station where we were taking shelter. The shelves were cleaned out, naught but the occasional pistachio from some unknown pistachio event left underneath. We were staying there with a family of four, and I’d promised them half a rabbit if I managed to catch one.

Their faces were resigned as I shook my head, my hands empty. 

Percy’s shoulders fell. He looked tired. Defeated. Like he was feeling the weight of the distance we’d already traveled, the pressure of the distance before us yet. I hadn’t noticed before because I was so caught up in my own woes, but the traveling and hiking were as hard or perhaps even harder on Percy than they were on me.

Still, despite that, he raised his arm for me, allowing me to cuddle up against his warm side and wrap my arms around his waist. He held me tightly, one hand gently rubbing my back. Up and down and up and down it went, a soft rhythm, until I began to doze off despite myself.

The next morning, after saying goodbye to the other family, we set off again, this time in search of a library. We needed to find some books on HIV, to figure out how it could be transmitted without the antiretrovirals so that I wouldn’t catch it and to learn what Percy’s life was going to be like once his meds ran out. Unfortunately for us, however, without the catalog computers, the search was all but useless. We spent hours upon hours in the stacks, searching for any books that might be helpful, only to come to the conclusion that someone must have beat us to it. Either that or even our two brains combined didn’t have enough computational power to put together the clues that would lead us to the right section.

“There has to be _something_ ,” Percy said, frustrated, as we neared the end of the day. 

I was in the middle of the section about diabetes, taking the books off the shelf one by one and stacking them up on the floor. “Too bad Felicity is so far away,” I said. “This stuff is right up her alley.”

“Yeah,” Percy sighed. Then: “It’s nearly time for the daily broadcast. Do you think London is still broadcasting?”

“Doubt it. Last I heard the electricity was down.”

Percy dragged his hands down his cheeks, nearly displacing the surgical mask. “God. Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

“Radio time?”

“Radio time.”

I crawled over to where I’d left my backpack, avoiding all the little towers of medical books I’d made while searching. A few minutes of digging and I had my prize in hand—the little hand-held HAM radio I stole from my father’s house on my way out. 

It took but a moment to turn it on, tuning in to the wavelength that the London Broadcasting Station had been using until recently. There was nothing there, just static and dead air. I pouted my lips, scrolling the tuning dial around aimlessly for a moment.

“Wait,” Percy said suddenly. “Go back.”

I did, slower this time. There was… nothing. 

“Uh… not sure what you thought you heard, but—”

“Be quiet a second,” he said, reaching a hand out for the radio. I handed it over, watching as he fiddled for a moment. He was cute, all focused like that. The squint of his eyes and the way a curl of his hair fell down over his forehead… ah. 

I was so enthralled with staring at him that I didn’t realize for a moment that he’d managed to tune into a broadcast. It wasn’t until he turned to me, beaming behind the mask, that I realized there was a voice coming through.

“— _trying something new today, folks. We got a message from the Oxford Broadcasting Station this morning with a series of messages they said came from further up the Thames, and we_ _’ve been told to relay them for the next station. It’s, uh… it’s a pretty cool idea, actually. We’re going to try this out, and if it works out then we’ll open our arms to messages from the general public to relay. And! Without further ado, here we go—to a Maddison Oakley in the greater London area_ —”

Percy and I shared a look. Then, in synchrony, we began to pack up our things. 

We had a radio station to get to.

***

Present Day

So, my current predicament, because of course there’s a current predicament: the Edinburgh Safe Zone is split into five districts. The district we’re in now? That’s the agricultural district, which wraps around the South end of the Safe Zone. The district we need to get to? Would be the science district, waaay on the other side of the Safe Zone in the densest part of Edinburgh proper. 

But! That’s not all! Not only do we need to _get_ there, we also need to get _in_ there. Now, normally you’d give the leader of the district something called a ‘due’—a fee, basically. These dues can come in the form of supplies, expertise, or labor. Percy and I, what with Percy’s condition and the state of my supplies, don’t have much to offer. Originally we planned to volunteer Percy’s violin-playing, but seeing as Percy’s, uh, hand-eye coordination is nonexistent at the moment, that’s a bust. I don’t have any skills or expertise like that, so the best bet for me is to sneak in. Which means that I will be, frankly speaking, _boned_ if anyone catches me on the wrong side of the fence. 

…This is all contingent, by the way, on Percy not giving me away.

I lean back where I sit in the garden shed, looking over at him. It’s nearing night-time so he’s perking up a little now, his white-washed eyes blinking slowly open. He clicks his teeth together behind the muzzle, watching me back.

I’ve been debating what to do with him for the past few hours. I think I’ve decided on putting the motorcycle helmet on him and pretending he’s mute if anyone asks. He’s docile enough during the day that I think I can get away with it, though I may have to figure out some way to leash him without leashing him so that he doesn’t wander away from me like I used to do to my nanny when I was in my rebellious phase. Toddler Monty was a handful, to say the least.

God. I am… really not looking forward to hiking across the Safe Zone. The closer we get to the science district, the more people there will be, and the higher the chance that Percy will be discovered. If our secret is uncovered, if the ruse is found out…

“Rrrrnnngh.”

I startle out of my thoughts, laughing a little. “I know, darling,” I say. “But there’s nowhere to go but forward.”

Percy clacks his teeth together again, and I nod sagely. Then, with a trek across the agricultural district ahead of us, I take the liberty of neatening us both up a bit. 

It’s become something of a routine at this point. It’s possible that I’ve been alone too long, but… it’s nice, to have a little time to take care of us both. To pretend that everything is normal. It makes me feel better about the fact that Percy is… you know. It makes me feel less like I want to walk us both off a cliff.

In the last light of dusk, I talk in a low, soothing voice as I gently tug a brush through Percy’s thick hair, swatting away his hands when he tries to reach for me. I use my last hair tie to wrangle his curls into a loose bun. Once done with that, I carefully take off the muzzle to clean off his face a little better. I was lucky enough to find a box of wet wipes in the last town we were in, so I use one of them to wipe the residual gore off his face, holding him by the jaw so he can’t snap at me. The wet wipes have a pleasant lemon smell that I can pretend covers the sharp, earthy scent of decay that clings to Percy.

“There you go, darling,” I say, fixing the muzzle back in place. “Feeling a little more like yourself?”

“Rrrnagh,” he says.

I smile. “I’m glad.”

I then do a quick brush through my own hair—it’s down to my chin now, ugh—and straighten up my clothes before stowing everything away again in Percy’s backpack.

And, without further ado, we head out into the night.

***


	3. Part III

***

Eight Months Ago

By the time we reached Leicester, my rabbit hunting skills had been refined, fine-tuned, honed, _perfected_. The trick, I’d found, was to pretend _I_ was a rabbit. To just… get inside their dumb little heads. Once you lived in a world where the only three instincts you had were eat, fuck, or run—then, and only then, would you finally comprehend the _randomness absolute_ required to hunt your prey.

…Percy, in unrelated news, was convinced I was out of my goddamn mind. But hey, if imagining I was a six-pound prey animal worked, then who was I to question it?

Anyway, that was what I was doing three months into our journey. Hunting rabbits, foraging for wild squash, trying to learn how to make berry preserves from this little old cookbook that we found on the road… just generally providing for our little nomad household. It made me feel good. It made me feel… useful. Especially when Percy wasn’t feeling well, which seemed to be happening more often than not.

Take now, for instance. 

I slowly unpacked my bag, laying all my supplies out as softly as I could so as to not disturb Percy. He was lying down on the far side of the room, curled up on his side in a little sesame street blanket that we’d found in one of the last houses we swept through. He was asleep.

“Monty?”

Or not. I fumbled a package of plastic utensils, dropping them to the floor with a clatter. So much for not disturbing him. I cleared my throat, setting the bag aside and ignoring the mess to say, “Yes, darling?”

“Are you going out tonight?”

“Yes,” I said, shifting where I sat. “We could use some meat to go with our squash.”

Percy shifted, glassy eyes peering at me from beneath the blanket. The surgical mask was stark against his pale face. “Are you leaving soon?” he asked.

A glance outside told me that we still had a few hours of daylight left. “Soon, but not right now. What did you need?”

For a long moment, he said nothing, shifting slowly around. Then, in a small voice, he said, “…Come here?”

I rose to my feet, nudging aside a few yellow squashes to make space to step. “What is it?” I asked, making my way over. I pressed a hand to his clammy forehead.

“…Just sleep better when you’re nearby,” he said, eyes slipping closed.

Ah. The corner of my lips quirked up. “That’s the good old Montague charm at work,” I said. “It’s like Samson’s strength coming from his hair, only my charm comes from my dimples.”

Percy hummed. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

“Hey. It’s true. Look at my dimples and tell me you don’t instantly feel charmed.”

He hummed again, stubbornly keeping his eyes closed. Or maybe it wasn’t stubbornness—maybe he really was that tired. I didn’t know. All I knew was that even though we didn’t have a thermometer I could still tell that he had a fever. He’d had a fever for the last week straight.

This, Felicity had told us through the relay, was called the acute stage of HIV infection. It consisted of flu-like symptoms and rashes, caused by the virus’s rapid multiplication and spread through the body. She explained it using bigger words than that, words that the radio broadcasters had to spell out, laughing all the while, but we got the gist of it. 

Percy was sick. He was not going to get better. He would, in all likelihood, get worse.

Which, fine. If fate or God or whoever wanted to make this the hardest thing we’d ever done or would ever do, then _fine_. That was how the chips fell. Getting pissed, which I was, or feeling helpless, which I did, wouldn’t make Percy get better. Hunting rabbits wouldn’t do that, either, but at least that meant we’d have enough food for the night and Percy wouldn’t have to stress about that on top of everything else.

So I waited until he’d drifted off, and I hunted rabbits. And found squash. And made runny berry preserves. And, though I’m not proud of it, snuck out late at night while Percy was still sleeping to hunt down clubs and bars, forever searching for a little bit of that feel-good juice just to take the edge off.

***

Present Day

There’s a place called a Sanctuary in every Safe Zone, called so because it’s a, you know, sanctuary. By the law of the land, once you’re in a sanctuary you can’t be _removed_ from the sanctuary. Doesn’t matter who you are, doesn’t matter how you got there, once you’re in you’re in. It’s a really nifty thing that I never thought I’d have to use. Until now, anyway.

I creep out from behind a building, edging around the circle of light from a streetlamp. I’m holding Percy’s hand, which would, in literally any other universe, be the most disgustingly romantic thing I’ve ever gotten to do. As it is, however, I can feel his fingernails digging into the back of my glove, his arm flexing, trying to drag my hand to his mouth.

“Be calm, darling,” I say, squeezing gently. I fed him another rabbit just before we set out tonight, so he’s not technically hungry. He’s just doing this to get my attention. Attention that he already has, to be quite honest—I never could keep my eyes off of him.

Anyway. The sanctuary. My only real plan is to make it to the Edinburgh Library Sanctuary, which is just inside the Science District. We’ll get in and then I can send a messenger to Felicity from there, and she’ll help me get Percy the rest of the way to the lab. 

The trick, of course, is getting that far.

The fence is easy enough—we cut through it with the bolt-cutters I stole for the last fence, and I pull Percy through it same as before. Once we’re there I take a deep breath and swallow my fear. “Okay, babe, here we go,” I say. I then gently tug Percy toward the street that stretches out before us. I look both ways, pause, roll my eyes, and step out onto the tarmac. I keep forgetting that there are no cars anymore, not really—we ran out of gas about two months into the epidemic. Hence why Percy and I walked here instead of catching a nice cozy Uber.

God, I _wish_ I could call an Uber. The Safe Zone is eerie at night. The local power plant was partially fueled by a series of enormous windmills out past the Western part of the city, so they still have some power—just enough to keep every third streetlight or so lit. Just enough that I feel lost in the shadows in between the street lamps. I could be walking through the territory of some great, growling beast, one that would gladly gobble us both up with great enthusiasm should the opportunity arrive, for all I know. I shiver and keep going, pulling Percy along behind me. 

We pass defunct delivery trucks and evac vans and helicopters all covered in graffiti. The warehouses down here have all been converted into science labs—I catch sight of empty hazmat suits in one window, a bunch of microscopes and beakers in another.

I’m just passing what looks like a giant pit full of scorched bones when a flashlight flares in my face.

“Who goes there?” a voice demands.

***

Five Months Ago

We got as far as Leeds, or, more accurately, a little past Leeds, before things really began to fall apart. 

It happened in a small settlement, one so small that there was only one schoolhouse, just off the main street. As we passed Dead Heads rattling around in some of the locked houses I asked Percy if he thought this actually qualified as a town or if it was more of a village. I wasn’t sure if you’d call this a village or a town, myself—I was leaning toward village because I’d never seen it on a map, but I mean, what kind of criteria is that? That can’t possibly be the way they determine if something is large enough to be a town or not.

“—Right?” I asked, throwing out a hand.

Percy hummed. He wasn’t really listening to me—I was pretty sure he’d clocked out of the conversation about a mile ago, just walking on autopilot. It was a good thing that the Dead Heads in the houses were the only ones I’d seen since Leeds, because I was ninety percent certain that a zombie could pop out of the bushes and do the hula and Percy would just keep walking.

…It was probably time to take a pit stop. Ah, and look, the perfect place to take a breather: a convenience store. How _convenient_.

I led Percy inside, ignoring the noise of confusion that came from behind the surgical mask. “We’re done for the day,” I announced. 

“I can keep going,” he said, but he was listing a little to one side, his eyes slow blinking. I shook my head. I could pretend that his distraction was because of the long day, just general fatigue from the long hike, but nothing could explain away the tremble of his hands, nor the wheeze in his lungs. 

We’d hoped, perhaps naively, that the second stage of his illness—the stage where he’d be more or less okay day to day—would last until we got to the Edinburgh Safe Zone. We weren’t so lucky. The end of the world had caused a boom in infectious microorganisms, and even though we’d been diligent about keeping everything clean and sanitized, we couldn’t keep out _everything_.

I took Percy’s backpack from him. Fed him some berry preserves and the last of our beef jerky. Spent a moment with his forehead pressed against my shoulder. Bent to kiss him through the mask, just because I could. I could make up a bed for him to sleep, too, so I did that as well. And then, the moment he was down, his wheezing breath growing slower with sleep, I snuck out to get wasted.

It didn’t take long. I was barely past the one schoolhouse when I was greeted by a bar, one that was still in fairly good shape. I pulled out a bottle of warm whiskey from the dead fridge, toasting the setting sun. Then I raised it to my lips and drank.

An hour later, the sun was but a memory, the night growing up around me like mold. It was time to get back to Percy.

Out on the street, I squinted. It was hard to make anything out in the darkness, but even so I didn’t pull out my flashlight. I could find my way without it, my drunk brain figured. The light of the moon was good enough. We had to conserve our battery power—I couldn’t waste it on getting wasted. 

I didn’t regret it until I passed the school a second time and, from the darkness, closer than I had ever hoped to see one, appeared a _mother fucking bear_.

Now, look… I didn’t pay the closest attention in history class, but I was pretty sure that brown bears no longer resided in the United Kingdom. Something something hunted to extinction by our ancestors. So it was a bit of a… _surprise_ , you could say… to see one out and about on the street.

I’d like to say I kept my cool. I did not. When you see an eight-hundred-pound predator out in the wild a lot of your ‘learned’ knowledge takes flight and your ‘instincts’ rise in its place. What instincts did I have at the sight of an eight-hundred-pound predator out in the wild? The ones that tell you to let out the highest-pitched scream known to man and trip backward over your own feet, apparently. I’m not proud of it, but hey, at least I didn’t piss my pants, right?

The massive behemoth of a bear in front of me didn’t move. It didn’t take a step, didn’t lower its front paw… heck, it didn’t even turn to look at me, the person who was screaming bloody murder. I stared at it, waiting with dread for it to realize that edible food was barely thirty feet from its enormous claws. 

It did not. It stayed, frozen in place, as if it were nothing more than plastic. 

It was about this point that I realized two things—one, I was very drunk and had just mistaken a sculpture for a living animal. And two… someone or something was approaching me from behind, quick footsteps that meant whoever it was would be on top of me in three… two… one…

I barely had time to pull out the axe hanging at my belt, wielding it clumsily, before a beam of light from a flashlight hit me square in the face as a man burst out of the darkness. Not a zombie, thank god—just a regular man, a baseball bat in his hands. The flashlight was strapped to the hard hat on his head; he came to a halt in front of me, the bat raised to cross with my axe. 

For a moment that was all that happened. Neither of us moved, staring each other down across our weapons. We were at a stalemate. Then the man asked, “Was it you who screamed?”

I cleared my throat, wincing a little. “Uh. Yes. Yes, it was.”

The man studied me for a long moment, during which I studied him right back. It was hard to do when he still had the flashlight in my face, but I managed it, all the way until he slowly lowered his bat. 

“It sounded like you were in trouble,” he said. “So I came.”

I lowered my axe as well, biting back laughter. “Sorry, just ran into dear old Yogi Bear back there,” I said, jerking a thumb back at the statue. I was still on the ground, sitting on my ass on the tarmac. The man reached a hand down to me and I accepted it, letting him haul me to my feet.

“You’re alone?” he asked.

I gave a non-committal sort of shrug. “You?”

He shook his head. One whistle later and two more figures peeled out of the darkness.

The man was older, his beard gray and his face lined. The two figures who came following along behind him, on the other hand? They were _ancient_. They had black veils covering their faces, but I could tell by the hunches of their backs, the slow grace with which they moved.

“These are _senyores_ Ernesta Herrera and Eva Davila. The grandmothers,” the man said by way of introduction.

I inclined my head to them. “And you are…?”

“I am Pascal. Traveling apothecary.”

Apothecary, huh? I squinted my eyes. “So are you, like… a doctor?”

“I was in a past life. Now I deal in herbs and homegrown remedies,” Pascal told me.

The gears were turning in my head, clunking noisily as I thought. “So… you help people?” I asked.

“For a price.”

I thought for a moment longer. Then I raised my chin defiantly, staring him down. “My… friend. He’s in a bad way. If you can help him… I’ll give you anything you ask for.”

***

Ten minutes of haggling later we struck a deal. For the price of three rabbits and a copper pot, Pascal would give Percy a check-up and give us any herbs he thought might help. 

There wasn’t going to be much he could do for Percy, I knew that already, but if he could do anything, anything at all, to help Percy make it to Edinburgh… if he could do anything to help his suffering… then it would be worth it. It would be worth everything.

Deal struck, we then began the trek back to the convenience store. I gave the bear sculpture a pat on the nose as we passed it, then focused on placing my feet in front of each other. Until Pascal suddenly grabbed me by the arm, that is.

“Who goes there?” he called, baseball bat again raised. I fumbled for my axe, squinting ahead. I didn’t see anything for a good few seconds, and then all at once, I felt all the tension go out of my body.

“That’s Percy,” I said. Then I felt a surge of guilt rise up in my chest. “He, ah… must have come out looking for me.”

Pascal grunted, still not lowering his bat. I realized why after a moment of staring—Percy wasn’t really walking in a straight line but rather weaving around as if he, too, were drunk. My eyes grew wide as I took him in, from the curly hair escaping the bun at the back of his neck to his bare feet, dragging on the ground.

“Percy?” I called. I took a step forward toward him, and then another, and another, until I was close enough to see his face. To see his eyes.

Eyes that seemed to focus for barely an instant before they slid right past me.

“Hey,” I said, grabbing Percy by the arm. He stumbled, leaning heavily against me. With my drunken balance, both of us nearly went down. “Hey, hey… are you all right?” I asked, trying desperately to keep him up.

He moaned from behind the mask. Then, all at once, his knees gave out. I couldn’t hold all of his weight, especially not on such short notice and _especially_ not when drunk, so I did my best to lower him gently to the ground.

“Percy,” I said. “Hey, Perce, come on, wake up.”

I didn’t know why I was talking to him. It felt like the only thing I could do. His back arched, veins in his neck straining against his skin, and I thought maybe he was coming around, but then he started to shake. Not just shake—convulse, frightening and out of control. He jerked and thrashed and I…

…drunk and useless…

…could only watch.

***


	4. Part IV

***

Present Day

“Who goes there?! Identify yourself!”

Oh, shit, oh, _shit_. Okay, Monty, play it cool. Just—for the love of god, _don’t freak out_.

“Uh?” I say, my voice pitched higher than normal. I internally kick myself. Externally, I squint into the light, wincing. 

“I’m not gonna say it again. Identify yourself!”

Okay. Okay. I can do that. I slowly raise the hand not holding Percy into the air, taking a few deep, slow breaths as I do. The flashlight in my face flicks from me to my hand and back again. “My name is Monty. I’m…”

I fumble. Half of my brain is calculating how fast I could run to the sanctuary—alone I might be able to outrun this guard, but Percy is slow. It would be no contest. The other half of my brain is caught up trying to figure out if the voice of the guard belongs to a girl or just a very young boy—it could swing either way, really. 

Unfortunately for me, with both halves of my brain occupied I have no more brain cells left to come up with a convincing lie. I shrug, smiling with the dimples just in case that helps my situation.

It does not. The guard taps a foot on the ground, and I hear them pull out a walkie-talkie, the static buzzing on the air. I swallow. I’m sweating through my duct-tape jacket at this point, clutching Percy’s arm. Thank god Percy hasn’t gotten any smart ideas about trying to eat this dude. 

I hear the walkie-talkie click, as if the guard is about to call in reinforcements, and I’m mentally preparing to grab Percy and take off running when the guard lowers their arm again.

“Is that a specimen delivery for the Lab?” they ask.

I blink. “…Yes?” I say, the question in my voice exposing my confusion.

Confusion that the guard clearly misses. “Oh. In that case, carry on. Just remember to use the North Gate next time. And make sure you zip tie their wrists, otherwise they can still scratch you.”

“Right,” I say. “I meant to do that, I just… lost my zip ties.”

The guard lowers the flashlight, then says, “Hold this.” 

I take the flashlight when they hand it over, trying to still my shaking hand before they notice. They dig around in the fanny pack at their waist for a long moment before producing a zip tie, the kind with two loops. 

“Here you go!” they say.

God, is this kid serious? I’ve been called oblivious, but at least I’ve never let a weirdo sneak a zombie into a Safe Zone in the middle of the night. Seriously.

“Uh, thanks…” I say, taking the tie. 

The kid smiles. “Happy to help!”

“Right.” I eye Percy for a moment, silently apologizing, before raising his hand. It takes a moment of dedicated concentration to get the loop over his flexing fingers but I manage it, tightening it around his wrist. I then do the same to his other hand, essentially cuffing his wrists behind his back. 

“I’ll take you to the APL now,” the guard says, and begins walking the two of us down the street.

Which, wow. Okay. This is… this is me losing my mind. There is no way that this kid not only _didn_ _’t_ kill Percy on sight, but is now giving us an _armed escort_ to the _exact place we need to be_. I mean, it’s about time our luck turned around, but holy _shit_ was I not prepared for this.

“This place creeps me out,” the guard says conversationally as we head around the pit of bones. I hum noncommittally. It creeps me out, too, but they don’t need to know that. It’s so deep and the ashes at the bottom and the bones and… I shiver. I’m sure it’s nothing but a specimen dump site, but I can’t stop imagining people down there, screaming as they burn.

I swallow. Yeah, now would be a pretty good time to stop thinking.

I manage to keep my head in line all the way until we get to the biggest lab in the center of the district. It’s still lit even though it’s late, shadows moving in the windows above our heads. 

We approach the door as a group, and in the light from inside I can finally see the guard clearly. He really is young, jesus… can’t be more than thirteen. He’s young and hormonal—I can give him a pass for letting a weirdo leading a Dead Head into the science district.

“Oi, what the hell is that?” a woman standing at the door asks.

“Specimen!” the guard says cheerfully.

The woman squints. “We haven’t ordered any new specimens.”

I clear my throat. “I got the order direct from Platt’s office,” I say. “Just ask my—Felicity.”

The woman stares at me for a long moment before she shrugs and pulls out another walkie-talkie. She walks to the opposite side of the entryway, eyeing us distrustfully, to have her conversation.

This, if you’re wondering, is where I expect everything to fall apart. So close but still so far, you know? Got so far but in the end it doesn’t even matter kinda deal. So many things could go wrong right now… Percy could get ornery and attack, Felicity could turn us away without realizing who we are, another more experienced guard could come upon us and start questioning things…

I bite my lip, shifting uneasily. My hand is too tight on Percy’s arm but I dare not loosen it. I want to talk to him, to reassure him that everything is going to be okay, but if I want to keep up this charade I can’t do that. It hurts more than I’m willing to admit to treat Percy like he’s dead and dangerous.

The woman across from us finishes her conversation, and I straighten up. “Are you going to let us in or what?” I ask.

The woman raises her lip in contempt. “…Your delivery was approved,” she says, though she doesn’t sound at all happy about it. 

I grin, and walk past her to the door.

“Wait in the lobby for your escort,” the woman says to our backs, and then we’re _in_.

***

Five Months Ago

The night of Percy’s first seizure, we camped out with Pascal and the grandmothers. We, or rather _I_ , told them the truth—that we were on our way to my sister, Felicity, in the big city. “She’s working as an assistant to Alexander Platt, the immunologist who’s spearheading the zombie vaccination effort,” I said. 

Pascal nodded. He was sitting with Percy, who had started to come around, though he was clearly well out of it. The elder man had brought out a bag of medical supplies, using a tongue depressor to check Percy’s mouth and throat. 

He clucked his tongue, like he didn’t like what he saw.

“It’s thrush,” he said, after he’d packed everything away again. “A new form of it that I’ve been seeing a lot on corpses. It invades the mouth, throat, and lungs and then crosses the blood-brain barrier to the spinal fluid. Once it sets into the brain it begins to cause damage to the brain tissues, which can result in seizures.”

I nodded, my mouth dry. I was still a little buzzed but the turn the night had taken was doing wonders to sober me up. “So—” I tried, only to have my voice break on me. I cleared my throat. “So is there, is there anything you can do?”

Pascal shook his head. “Not with the supplies and the expertise I have. This would require a specialized procedure that could only be done by a neurosurgeon, if such things still existed. I’m sorry, there’s… there’s nothing I can do.”

I nodded. My throat was closing up on me, and quite against my will I let out a dry sob that sounded like a cat choking on a hairball.

“Hey, no, stop that,” Percy said, sitting up slowly on his elbows. “Edinburgh still has supplies, still has doctors and surgeons and all that. We just have to make it to Edinburgh.”

“What if we don’t?” I asked, my voice wavering. “We’re still several months away, there’s no way we’ll make it—”

“We can still try,” Percy said, and I pulled him into an embrace, strangers be damned.

“I can’t lose you,” I whispered.

“I won’t leave your side,” he whispered back.

***

One Month Ago

In the end, we left Pascal and the grandmothers the next day, our minds made up. We’d get to the Edinburgh Safe Zone or we’d die trying. I handed over the rabbits I owed and Pascal shook his head, saying, “You need them more than we do.”

I shook my head, but put the rabbits back in my bag all the same.

As we walked, I stayed wary, watching Percy for any sign of seizures. The space between the first one and the second one was nearly a month long—so long that I was almost convinced the first one was a fluke. Then, all at once, the seizures started coming and they wouldn’t stop. Once a day, twice a day, more… he was barely able to walk some days, his movements stiff and stilted.

We could still make it, I told myself. I couldn’t sleep at night but I couldn’t go out and drink, either… I had to sit there and watch him to make sure he didn’t have a seizure and hit his head in the night. I was falling apart mentally while Percy fell apart physically, and it seemed like we had been on the road, in this liminal space between here and there, for all our lives.

We lasted until we hit a little place called Hawick. That was where everything went wrong.

I was used to the little towns having few mobile Dead Heads, is the thing. Without food, the zombies rotted faster, turning into bloated, shambling corpses that eventually fell apart. Gross, but that was how the zombie fungus did things. As long as a zombie had a food source they could continue to walk the earth.

The small towns… they had wildlife, but free range zombies didn’t care if they stayed in town or not. They’d wander into the forests, spread out and less dangerous for the fact that they didn’t hunt in packs. It’s not hard to dispose of a corpse when they come at you one at a time.

This town, on the other hand… well. I’ll tell the story in the most straightforward way I can. It still… still hurts, so forgive me if I get a little emotional.

What happened was this: Percy had a seizure. And while he was down, me at his side holding him steady, a pack of Dead Heads snuck up on us. I don’t know where they came from, why they were there—I don’t know anything. Just that there were five of them, and that I’m small, and stupid, and useless.

I stood up, the only thing between a vulnerable Percy and a pack of Dead Heads. I tried to keep them all at bay, but one got past me, and by the time I sank my axe in her head… by the time I got there…

…

So that’s where we were now. Percy had a bite, a chunk torn from his arm. We continued on because fuck, what else were we to do? Percy was already dying, this just sped things up a bit.

The zombie fever… it was bad. Percy was so hot that I thought he’d scramble his brains. We no longer had the luxury of taking breaks and resting—we stopped for four hours a night before getting up again and forcing ourselves on. Percy grew quiet, all his energy sucked out by the fever. Eventually it felt like I was walking all on my own—he wouldn’t even look at me, wouldn’t respond when I said something, wouldn’t even blink when I snapped in front of his face. It scared me. I was so scared you wouldn’t believe. We were too far from the Safe Zone, too far from help. Each day I expected to wake up to find that Percy had passed in his sleep, that the zombie fever had finally run its course.

It didn’t happen. What happened instead was, probably, worse.

I was walking, and talking, just to put something out into the universe, you know? And I thought Percy was right behind me, but when I turned to look, there was no one. I retraced my tracks, getting more and more frantic, calling his name—and then suddenly there he was. He was lying in the mud, his face dirty, his eyes wide and staring. He’d literally walked to his death… and I’d missed it. He’d passed without someone holding his hand, alone in the forest.

The love of my life was gone, and he’d died _all alone_.

***

Present Day

…Remember how I said you didn’t get the scope of this story? I think you’re starting to get it now. It’s in how I walked Percy the rest of the way to the Edinburgh Safe Zone, how I fed him rabbits to keep him going and pulled him through a fence or two and got him into the APL. Me and Percy… Pascal, the grandmothers… the radio broadcasters and Felicity and the guard and the woman at the door and the Dead Heads and the scientists still working non-stop to find a vaccine, to find a cure… we are all part of this story. The end of the world was not the end of us. You know what I mean?

Anyway. This part is as new to me as it is to you. It’ll be interesting to see where the story goes now, don’t you think? 

I walk into the lobby, wincing as the motion sensor lights come on. There are footsteps, slow and then faster, coming from a nook labeled ‘elevators’. Then, like a phantom from the night, my sister appears. She waves to the woman on the other side of the glass, clicks her walkie-talkie on to say a quick thank you to the guard, and goes to examine Percy.

She keeps herself together better than I would have if our roles were reversed. I’m barely keeping it together now, if I’m being honest. I am grungy and smelly and I’ve been walking alone with the corpse of my best friend, my lover, for nearly a month now. I could use a hug.

I do not get a hug. Felicity directs me to walk Percy toward the elevators and the moment we’re out of sight of the people at the entrance she gives my arm a good punch.

“Ow?” I say, rubbing the spot. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Felicity demands. “I told you to meet Scipio!”

I shrug. “I was already inside. I just had to, you know, roll with the punches or whatever.”

“Roll with _this_ ,” she hisses, raising her fist again. I flinch away, hiding behind Percy, who clicks his teeth at me. She eyes me for a long moment before turning to the elevators, calling one up for us.

“So, uh… when do we get to meet the bigwig?” I ask, as we ride down into the basement.

“Platt?” Felicity snorts. She sounds significantly less starstruck than she did when she first left for Edinburgh nearly two years ago. “You’re not going to meet him. He had a drug problem, mixed up a vial of dried zombie fungus with his vial of cocaine, and zombified himself, like, seven months ago.”

“But… the press briefings,” I say.

“I take care of them now. I took over his work and I’ve been sending out the memos ever since.”

“Wow. So… _you_ are the bigwig,” I say.

She tells me to shut up, but I can tell she’s preening a little bit. This is like a dream come true for her.

We get to the lab a few minutes later, and Felicity gets right down to examining Percy. She has me take the helmet off of him, and the muzzle, after she uses some soft restraints to bind his hands down to a bed. He snaps his teeth experimentally at her, watching her closely as she pokes around his chest with some cotton swabs.

“It’s okay,” I tell him, taking his hand. “She’s going to help.”

Felicity gives me a funny look, but she’s distracted from questioning me as her walkie-talkie suddenly flares to life. “ _The duke is back_ ,” it says. “ _He_ _’s pretty pissed, keeps swearing at me. Should I send him up_?”

“Fine,” Felicity groans. She mutters to herself for a moment. Then she turns to me. “Stay here for a moment. I’ll deal with him.”

I wave her off, sliding into a chair at the side of Percy’s bed. “How are you doing?” I ask him.

“Rnnnngh,” he says.

I nod. “About what I expected. I’m relieved that we got here, but I’m not going to be happy until—”

And then the world is split in half with a _bang_ , the sound of a gun firing close by. 

I flinch, sinking off the chair and into a half-crouch, my mind in a jumble. ‘ _What the hell_?’ I mouth at Percy. He has no insight for me. What is going _on_?

Another bang, and then shouting, are my only clues. Whatever it is is happening outside the laboratory, which I realize, with dawning dread, is where my sister just went.

I exchange a look with Percy. Then I’m scrambling for the door.

Whatever the commotion is, it reaches the door before I do, slamming it open all of a sudden. A man comes in first, brandishing a gun—then comes a woman, wailing in something that sounds like the offspring of Spanish and French—then comes the woman from the front door—and then, _finally_ , my sister.

She’s okay. Thank _god_. I take a halting step forward, half of my brain telling me to to protect her and the other half telling me to make sure Percy stays safe.

It’s at this moment that the man with the gun realizes Percy is here. 

“You have _another specimen in here_?” he demands. “You promised me you would work on the sample I gave you! The _heart_!”

“And we are!” Felicity says. Her face is white but her stance is strong, authoritative. 

“You _bloody well better be_!” the man, who I presume to be the duke, screams. 

“Hey, don’t yell at her,” I say, stupidly. The gun, which was pointed at the floor until now, jerks up in my direction. Before I can even raise my hands there’s another ear-shattering _bang_ and… and…

I raise my hand to my head. It comes back red. 

Alright. I think… I think I’ve been shot. Never done that before. Huh. I feel… a little… woozy.

I stumble, Felicity’s white face appearing over me as my knees hit the floor. She’s yelling something, her eyes huge in her face as she presses her hands against my head. I’m going down—the ground hits me in the back as I fall. Felicity follows me, frantic. I blink, clutching at her. Until suddenly she’s gone, and in her place… in her place…

I think, at first, that I’m hallucinating. Percy is crouched over me, and it’s been so long since I’ve seen his face uncovered that my brain overlays Percy from a month ago, two months ago, earlier, right over top. If it weren’t for the torn edges of the restraining cuffs fluttering about his wrists he’d seem like just… normal Percy. 

Then I manage to focus, and his ashy gray face comes clear again. His white eyes are boring down at me, his mouth open. His muzzle is off.

His muzzle is _off_.

I think, next, that I am about to become Dead Head chow. A month straight of dealing with zombie Percy and it’s not until we get to the place that can cure him that he eats me. Crazy how that works.

I cower, on my back on the floor, my hands bloody as I raise them in a pitiful attempt to defend myself. Percy comes closer, closer, his face looming above me. He gets so close that I swear he’s about to bite me, to sink his teeth right into my cheek.

Only… he doesn’t. He growls, low in his throat, and then he raises his eyes to the man with the gun. And I don’t believe in God but I swear that there’s something terrifying and awe-inspiring about Percy, like the angels of the old testament. He opens his mouth and, crouched over me and facing the man, _roars_. 

I have never, ever, in my entire life… never have I heard a sound like that. The man is backing up, trying to aim the gun—he shoots, and it hits Percy in the shoulder. Percy roars again. His unbreathing chest is hunched over me, and I realize all at once that he’s… he’s protecting me. He’s facing down the man with the gun, putting his body between me and the weapon. His roars are aimed at anyone who dares come near. 

It’s at this moment that I know… everything is going to be okay.

And I’m right. The duke swears, pulling the trigger again. This time the gun jams. And while he’s shaking it, trying to get it to work… while he’s otherwise occupied, Percy _leaps_ on him.

It’s a quick death. Quicker than most zombies will give you. Percy roars again, face covered in blood, and the three women in the room are backing away, trying to get to the door, and I’m almost afraid that Percy is going to attack them next so I do the most logical thing and just—call his name.

He turns to me. I sit up and raise my bloody, shaking hand, offering it to him. He steps toward me… steps toward me again… lowers his head as if he’s going to bite my fingers, _but_ —he doesn’t. He’s only sniffing at me. Then, so slowly, so softly, he pushes his face into my palm, his eyes slipping closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly done guys! Just an epilogue left!


	5. Epilogue

“You know, darling, we haven’t gone out walking alone, just the two of us, in a while.”

I receive a grunt in response. Undeterred, I continue on.

“I know that you’re still… recovering, but I think it might be nice, you know?”

Another grunt.

“Ah, maybe you’re right. We spent a year walking alone together. Maybe that’s enough for one lifetime.”

Grunt.

“You’re not listening to me at all, are you.”

Grunt.

“For fucks sake, Percy.”

Grunt.

Annoyed, I smack him in the chest, distracting him from the paper crane he’s been trying to fold for the past half hour. He jumps, turning to me with a question in his eyes. “What… was that for?” he asks, slow and ponderous.

“For not paying attention to me,” I say. 

Percy blinks. Then a smile starts to curve across his face. “Sorry,” he says, but he’s started laughing so he can’t really mean it.

I throw my hands up in the air. Zombies, I swear.

Things have been going well. I’ve learned a lot these past few weeks as Percy has worked on his rehabilitation. Felicity tells me that Percy isn’t the only Dead Head showing signs of coming back—almost every zombie that the lab has examined has had minimal brain activity. With enough stimulation, that ‘minimal’ grows and grows until, like with Percy, the activity hits the frontal lobes, the part that makes humans… human.

Of course, it takes a lot of work. A lot of constant interaction is required. And a Dead Head can never fully be rid of the zombie fungus—it’s a lifelong condition. But some more good news: the zombie fever that kills the human host in the first place also kills anything else inhabiting the body at the time. So the HIV virus… the thrush… all of it has been burned out of Percy by the zombie fever. He is HIV free for the first time in his life. He’s been given a chance to start over.

As for me… that’s simple enough. I lost an ear and the hearing on that side, but was given back the love of my life. It was a fair trade, if I do say so myself. Having Percy back is worth everything.

“I’d like… like to go out walking,” he says now, setting the half-folded crane aside. He’s been trying to work on his dexterity so that he can play his violin again. It’s slow going, but he’s making progress. I’m sure he’ll pick it up again in no time. 

I stand up from the table. He raises a hand to me and I clap my palm to his, hauling him to his feet as well. I look up into his face and… god. I can hardly believe that there was a time when my entire world, my entire universe, was crumbling down around me. I can hardly believe that I’ve lived through the worst thing I can imagine. That Percy died and yet he’s still here with me, after everything… it’s nothing short of a miracle.

I tell him so, gently tucking a strand of his wild hair behind his ear, expecting him to agree with me. 

He doesn’t. Instead he shakes his head, bending down to butt me with his forehead. “Not… a miracle. Not god or… some greater force. _You_ brought me back.”

Oh. I lean back, laughing and pressing my hands to my eyes. I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not—

Ah, nuts, there I go.

With slow hands, Percy reaches up to take my wrists, carefully pulling my hands away from my face. His thumbs come to my cheeks, brushing away the tears. “I love you,” he says, voice low and sweet.

“I love you, too,” I say, and go up on my toes to kiss him on the cheek. He, in turn, bends down and presses his lips to mine, his hands cupping my cheeks like he’s holding the most precious thing in the world.

Aaand… that’s enough of that. You don’t need to see this part. The story is over now. 

What I’ve told you wasn’t all sunshine and daisies—it was actually a pretty sad story. But it’s our story, and I think… yeah. I think that I’m allowed to say that there is beauty in persistence, that there is love in small actions. There is hope even for those who you think are hopeless. And I think… after everything… I’m glad it happened this way.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a hot zombie boyfriend to make out with.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Heartbeat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23003392) by [em_gray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/em_gray/pseuds/em_gray)




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